Heroine: The Husband's Cologne (7 page)

Soon thereafter we left the restaurant and split up.  Horst and Tanja got into a large Jeep, that looked to have cost as much as the property of the restaurant itself.  I reclined into the passenger seat of Erich's stately carriage and we drove off. 

We hadn't come down from the hills yet, when Erich turned to me and said:

“I wanted to tell you about the story behind those two that you just met.”

I went silent, a little breathless from anticipation, and looked at him curiously.

“In the days that I was coming here with that young student of mine, I often saw Horst here as well.  We had talked a few times, and when finally my relationship with the student had run its course, Horst and I were so well-acquainted that we began talking about very intimate things.  We spent many evenings drinking together, and on one occasion I confessed to him that I wasn't actually gay, but had simply ventured a relationship with this young man out of desperation, and on the advice of my therapist, for I was slowly becoming impotent.  When I told him, he looked at me sympathetically and said:

“That must be tough, let's do something about it.”   To make a long story short, we spent the next few days and nights visiting brothels together.  At first, the ordinary ones, then eventually the more “specialized” and expensive ones, open exclusively to a select clientele.  Horst insisted that I tell the ladies about my troubles, that they
are  “all ears” when it comes to this kind of thing.  For months nothing was working, until we went to a party one evening.  There were about a dozen men present, and just as many women, and things really got going.  The women, evidently all professionals, let themselves be taken by the men in every way you can possibly imagine.”

Erich looked over at me briefly and I looked back.  I sat with my knees drawn up to my chest; I had kicked off my shoes and had opened the bottom buttons of my blouse.  In order to encourage him to continue talking, I also opened the top two buttons, so that my blouse was now being held closed by a single button in the middle.  Then I tied the bottom of the blouse in a knot over my navel.  I imagined I looked like Jodie Foster driving men to distraction in the movie “Taxi Driver.”  That movie had already turned me on during my puberty when I first saw it.

Erich nodded in acknowledgement, taking my actions as a green light to keep talking.  And that's what I wanted, for it was the blend of his resonant speaking voice and the topic of sex that was making me weak. 

“This is how it happened,” he began.

“The young men present were clearly there to get things going, so that the older gentlemen wouldn't feel overwhelmed.  These older gentlemen, myself included, had to first shell out a four-figure check to the owner of the club in order to take part in the orgy.  It was at this event that I realized that it got me particularly aroused to see a young woman being taken by a group of men at the same time.  So I avoided having sex myself, in favor of going around and watching various groups in action.  I then found a way in which I could reach an orgasm: I saw a petite woman, who still had the features of a young girl, surrounded by four men.  One of them was Horst, who was really going at it. 

Her legs were hoisted onto his shoulders, and her head hung off the chair.  Another man had stuck his cock in the woman's mouth, and the woman had pigtails similar to yours.  The other men stood around and masturbated.  Her hair was black and her vagina wasn't shaved, but her triangle of hair was so small, that one could hardly see it.  This really fueled an older man's fantasy.  As Horst was nearing his orgasm, he didn't stay inside but pulled out instead, and came all over her stomach.  This, apparently, was the cue for the other men to come on her as well.  I included.  I had my first orgasm in three years.  And that's when I discovered how I could regain my virility: I had to watch and let myself be spurred on by other men. 

“Later, my sexual therapist explained that this was often the case with older men: they transfer their failing potency to other men, who effectively act as surrogates for the sexual act itself.  Then he said something about the fear older men have of the potency of women, which I didn't quite understand.”

I, on the other hand, believed to understand what his therapist would have meant.  Transference and fear of the vulva were concepts I had already heard about in my psychoanalysis lectures.  Erich had not grasped everything, but most of the concepts seemed clear to him.  For a moment I was angry at Erich's therapist.  He obviously only showed interest in the men that he treated.  What about the women who might find themselves in positions which were equally as helpless? 

But the thought vanished as quickly as it had come.  I was on Erich's side and loved him.  Perhaps the young woman of whom he spoke had also done this out of love for an older man, and maybe she had even had fun doing it, who knows. 

Psychologists call this rationalization, but if one finds oneself in an exceptional situation, it is difficult even for psychologists themselves to see through these defense mechanisms.  Sometimes you don't realize that your head is underwater, until you bump it on the edge of the bathtub.  This only dawned on me much later.

Erich looked over at me again.  I looked back and saw his features turn wistful.  He had confided in me deeply and trusted me.  I was suddenly overwhelmed, and took his right hand and snuggled up to him.  Then I placed his hand in my lap.  I wanted to show him that I was there for him; that I, too, needed him and didn't wish to lose him. 

He remained silent awhile, and then cleared his throat.  In a breathy voice he said:

“Would you do that for me, too?”

“Do what?” I asked, oblivious.  And then I realized what he was getting at: he wanted me to get fucked by other men, while he watched.  I was appalled and instinctively cringed. 

“To have sex with total strangers, while you watch?” I squeaked.

“No, I wouldn't ask you to do that,” he said hastily.  “I was thinking about a man, whom you've already met.”  Again he looked at me with his puppy dog eyes, and I weakened.

“And who might that be?” I asked naively; ever the wide-eyed country girl...

“Well, I introduced you to Horst this evening, so that you two could get acquainted.  He would be the lucky man.”

And there it was.  The proposal was so direct and explicit, that for a moment I felt cornered. 

“But what would his wife say about it?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“She would be there too,” he replied, to my astonishment.

“She likes watching her husband have sex.  Often, when they know that he's about to sleep with another woman, they have sex beforehand.  But she can only do it once; she's very tight and gets dry very quickly, which takes the fun out of it for her.  However, she gets wild when she watches her man doing it.”

Another example of transference, I thought, donning my psychoanalytical hat.  This observation made me proud somehow.  Only after a few semesters and not even having begun the internships and seminars, I was already able to make a discerning judgment of this kind. 
Grandiosity goes hand in hand with a considerable loss in one's sense of reality
; this was something else which eventually became clear to me...but too many months later…

“Alright, when and where is this to take place?” I asked, as casually as possible.  But I couldn't conceal the quiver in my voice. 
In that instant, I didn't know whether it was fear, excitement, or a mixture of both.  This Horst character had already managed to arouse me during dinner. 

If only he didn't have such a ridiculous name...on the other hand he looked damn good and it would be for a good cause...but what if he were to rape me? C'mon, Erich and Tanja would be right there
... and so my mind flitted from thought to thought. 

“And you and Tanja would look after me?”
I asked, a little agitated.

“Of course,” Erich replied.  “We will all be there, we will all be naked and it'll be between us.  And believe me, Horst is a very capable, tender and sensitive lover.”

“Alright, I'll do it, but when?” I inquired without thinking.  Was this me speaking?  Had I just agreed to get screwed in front of my lover by a total stranger?

Erich cleared his throat a little awkwardly.  We turned into the street of his villa.  In front of the gate a large and luxurious Jeep was parked.  It looked familiar.  I felt hot and cold at the same time, and drew my knees up to my chin. 

“This evening, I sensed that you took a liking to Horst.  You both got along and Tanja got the same impression.  She's looking forward to watching you.  And for my part, I would like nothing better.” He looked at me almost pleadingly. 

Alright
, I thought as I felt my heart quicken,
what could go wrong, after all?  We all trust each other and I can handle this.

I glanced at Erich and nodded briefly. I became rewarded by one of his jovial laughs, which triggered a warm feeling in my stomach. 

He parked on the gravel driveway in front of the gate, got out of the car, helped me out of the passenger seat (at which point I felt like a princess being escorted from her chariot), and opened the entrance gate to the house.  Horst's car followed slowly behind the Jaguar.  Their car windows were tinted so that I couldn't see them until they got out of the Jeep.  I saw that Tanja had been the one driving; Horst was in the passenger seat.  Somehow this impressed me, and I began to feel admiration for Tanja.  She suddenly appeared strong to me, and something inside me resolved to entrust myself to her.  I would rely on her to protect me and show me the way to go.

Once we were inside the house, we all gathered in the kitchen. 

“Juliane has agreed,” Erich explained.

Now there was no way back.  I lowered my eyes.  Horst came up behind me, gently put his arms around me, leaned over and whispered in my ear:

“You won't regret it.  I promise you an unforgettably pleasant evening, and I also promise that nothing will happen which you don't want to happen.”

His voice was husky and deep, like a wild animal.  I felt myself swoon and begin to tremble.  I tilted my head to
the side and shut my eyes.  I saw myself as the prey, offering up its throat for the predator's lethal bite.  I felt his lips on mine; his hand ran tenderly up along my neck, and then his large tongue thrust firmly into my mouth.  That's when I lost all control.

I gave out a moan, his tongue interweaving with mine, and I felt myself getting more and
more wet.  Abruptly, he let go.  He pushed my chair back, leaned over me, grabbed me under my knees with one hand and under my shoulders with the other.  He hoisted me up as if I weighed nothing and clutched my body to his chest.  I felt small and helpless, and I liked it. 

Let’s go downstairs,” said Horst in a quiet but raspy voice.  I had my ear against his chest and heard a sound akin to deep rolling thunder coursing through his imposing body. 
Whatever resistance I might still have put up at that moment now vanished completely.  I had surrendered.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Erich getting countless bottles – undoubtedly Champagne – out of the fridge; this one seemed to carry nothing but Champagne. Tanja and Erich followed us down the broad steps which led to the gym.  The light was dusky as Horst set me down on a small lounge bed along the inner courtyard. 

For a moment I snapped out of my trance.  I had to pee and remembered that I still had a tampon in me. 

“Just a second,” I said, my voice quivering, “I have to go to the ladies' room.”

“I'll go with you,” Tanja said.  I felt reassured.  There were two restrooms down here, one for each sex, and I was impressed by this.  Erich must have had a lot of guests over. 

In the restroom I freshened up and looked at Tanja with eyes wide:

“Are you really OK with this?” I whispered nervously to her.

She approached me, took me in her arms and quietly said:

“Yes, I am.  And I know that it's something you genuinely desire.  It's going to be a marvelous and unforgettable night for you.”

I winced slightly:
an entire night? 
Well, at some point Horst would have enough, no man could do it more than two or three times.  And the main thing was for Erich to achieve his orgasm. In any case, we would stop once he was done. 

But I was sorely mistaken about Horst, and by the following morning I had understood
Tanja's predicament.  She was married to an animal, who would outlast even me. In the light of the dawn I was utterly spent. At least I’d managed to arouse Erich by performing in front of him with Horst, but it was still not enough to let him climax.

The amount of champagne I’d sipped during the night was much more than I was able to stand, which had also helped Horst using me to an amount I wouldn’t have conceded any other man, including my husband.

A part of me was disappointed about not having helped Erich, but another part was happy to get some rest.  I cuddled up to Erich and said:

“Shouldn't we think about calling it quits?  I need some sleep, and later I have a lecture.”

He nodded and gave me a peck on the forehead.

“You're right; I could do with some rest myself.  Let's
go upstairs.”

“Pity, I'm sure I could go for another round,” Horst grunted behind me.